


Teasing the Flower

by Josselin



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My hands are stuck,” said Laurent, tugging at the fabric that had gathered around his wrists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teasing the Flower

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for 3 tumblr prompts:
> 
> 1\. anon: BONDAGE!!! like tying Laurent's hands together or something (and him low-key liking it)
> 
> 2\. anon: omg if you’re still taking prompts and you’re comfortable with it then bondage! I like Laurent slowly trusting Damen more and more and why not throw some kinky shit in there with it
> 
> 3\. [@cannedebonbon](http://cannedebonbon.tumblr.com/): rimming. all the rimming. damen just wants to eat laurent’s ass out.

Veretian fashions had simplified with Laurent’s ascension to the throne. There were fewer layers, sleeves were no longer puffed (to Charls’s dismay), and the aristocracy followed their king in adopting subtler colors with less ornamentation.

But there were still a ridiculous quantity of layers and laces, and Laurent remained presumptuous in enlisting Damen’s assistance with undressing. It was one of the first evenings of their arrival for the season in Ios. The weather was still cool enough that Laurent was not baking in his Veretian clothing and had not yet exchanged his layers for something more practical in the Akielon style. He was reclined in their bed and not even assisting Damen in helping to remove his clothing as Damen knelt over him. 

Damen carefully drew loose the laces up the front of one of Laurent’s dark green jackets, pulling the thin cords and loosening the front of the brocade fabric. He interrupted their conversation about Laurent’s dislike of the beard Damen was starting to grow to comment on Laurent’s jacket. “This is why chitons are far more practical as a fashion choice.”

Laurent smiled, one of his small private smiles. “You don’t like when I wear Akielon clothing,” he said, one of those truths that Damen never spoke but Laurent somehow understood regardless.

“I don’t care if you wear Akielon clothing,” said Damen. “It would certainly save effort when we are retiring—”

“You glower at everyone who comes near me when I dress in Akielon fashions,” said Laurent.

“I do not glower,” said Damen. He finished with Laurent’s jacket and began on the ties of Laurent’s linen undershirt. Having loosened those also, he pulled on Laurent’s shirt to drag the clothing off over his head and shoulders.

The layers of fine fabric became stuck and the whole mess tangled over Laurent’s head.

“You didn’t unbutton the cuffs,” said Laurent, his voice muffled by the clothing.

Damen tugged at the jacket again and the clothing released Laurent’s head with a fluff of yellow hair, but the jacket and the shirt were tangled around Laurent’s wrists.

“My hands are stuck,” said Laurent, tugging at the fabric that had gathered around his hands.

Damen watched him try to free himself for a moment, his hands caught in the fabric. His hair was spread out on the bed like a crown, and there were lines next to his eyes that showed that he was near to laughing. 

Damen abandoned Laurent to his struggles with his jacket and turned his attention to removing Laurent’s pants. Those he managed to pull off without any trouble. Laurent was still stuck.

“My hands,” Laurent said, holding them out toward Damen, clearly expecting Damen to help free him. 

Damen raised his own hands to Laurent’s wrists. “I know,” he said.

Then, watching Laurent’s face carefully, instead of helping to untangle the mess of fabric and free Laurent from his clothing, Damen held the thick fabric of the jacket more firmly in his own hand and drew Laurent’s tied hands above his own head.

Laurent watched Damen move his hands with a wary stillness. “I’m stuck,” he said. 

“Yes,” Damen said. He held his position balanced slightly over Laurent, one hand twisted in the fabric of Laurent’s jacket and gently pinning his arms to the bed, the other supporting the rest of his weight.

Laurent’s gaze was heavy for a moment. His eyelids dropped and he looked at Damen through his eyelashes. He relaxed back on the bed, and something inside Damen eased. 

“Is this because I objected to your ridiculous stubble?” said Laurent.

“I’m growing a beard,” Damen said. He was only three days in to the beard, so it was still thickening. It was traditional for Akielon kings to have beards. Going clean-shaven was for young men, and Damen had felt that after having formally ascended to the throne and married, he was entitled to wear a mature man’s fashion.

Laurent tugged his right arm, trying to pull it from the jacket unsuccessfully. He moved his left arm, then, with a similar lack of success. He let both his arms drop to the bed for a moment, looking up at Damen, and then he tugged on both of them suddenly, at the same moment, as if wondering if the fabric would give under a strong pressure. It did not; the brocade was a heavy fabric, and of good quality.

“What are you going to do now?” said Laurent.

Damen leaned in and kissed him as an answer. Damen shifted his weight so that he could recline on the bed next to Laurent while still keeping one hand on the fabric around Laurent’s wrists, and he leaned in and met Laurent’s lips. 

Damen felt sometimes that there was an entire language of kissing that he shared with Laurent. Laurent’s kissing was missing the artifice that sometimes colored his words or his actions in public. Damen could tell from how Laurent kissed him when Laurent was tired, or distracted, or pleased. He could sense when Laurent was amused or aroused. And throughout it all, Laurent seemed to exude a shy joy when their lips met.

Laurent was pleased now, and curious. He had a tiny smile hiding on his lips when Damen leaned in, and he nipped gently at Damen’s lower lip when Damen pulled away. Damen saw that the skin around Laurent’s mouth had reddened from his stubble. 

“Do you object to the beard because your skin is sensitive?” 

“I object because you look like you have pinned a squirrel tail on your chin--”

Damen leaned in and kissed Laurent again, taking less care to be cautious with his stubble this time. When he pulled away a second time, Laurent could no longer hide his smile. 

“I have an idea,” said Damen.

“Does the idea involve ripping my jacket?” said Laurent.

Damen laughed. 

“It’s a very expensive jacket,” Laurent’s tone was limpid.

“I’m growing rather fond of the jacket.” Damen demonstrated his idea, instead, using one hand to urge Laurent to flip over on the bed while he kept his other on Laurent’s wrists. 

Laurent rolled agreeably, and cooperated with Damen’s efforts to position him. Damen let go of his hold on Laurent’s wrists, pressing them gently to the bed in a wordless command to keep them there, and settled himself behind Laurent. Laurent was lying on his stomach with his hips propped slightly up by his knees.

“The oil is on the bed stand,” said Laurent. His face was buried in his own shoulder because his arms were still stretched out and stuck in the jacket.

Damen nodded, but ignored the oil, and instead, leaned in with his mouth. 

Laurent hissed as he felt Damen’s breath on his skin. Damen began slowly, caressing Laurent’s buttocks and thighs with his hands, admiring Laurent’s pale skin. He kissed the back of one of Laurent’s thighs, and brushed the skin with his cheek, and admired how it turned very slightly pink. 

They did not do this particularly often. Damen offered it only rarely, and Laurent did not ask for it specifically. Damen worried sometimes that Laurent was uncertain how to ask for what he liked in bed, and tried to be considerate, telling Laurent the names of the acts they were doing so he could speak of them later if he liked. “This is ‘teasing the flower,’” said Damen, giving Laurent the Akielon phrase for it. 

Laurent muttered something into the pillow in Veretian. It was a crude reflection on how Akielon names for sex acts were about as ridiculous as their fashions in facial hair, so Damen smiled to himself and leaned in to kiss Laurent’s skin again. 

One of the things that Damen liked in bedplay, above all, was when his partners became so aroused that they were unreserved in their reactions to him. He liked to see how they felt, how he could please them. To bring them to the edge and hold them there, and then help them to crest over it. Laurent was more of a challenge in this regard than most of his previous lovers. He considered it a victory when he made Laurent tremble very slightly, where other lovers might have writhed on the bed. So he reddened the skin of Laurent’s backside with his stubble and his lips and the occasional gentle nip of his tongue until Laurent said, “Get on with it,” and that was a remarkable accomplishment. 

Damen obeyed Laurent’s command and moved the center. He considered beginning with his fingers, but he wanted to start with his tongue, and he kissed Laurent sweetly there, playing with the edges and teasing gently at the hole. Laurent’s thighs tensed slightly. Damen moved a hand under Laurent to palm his cock, to hold it warmly and to let Laurent thrust into his hand. 

Damen continued. There was a famous poem in from Ithica about the beauty of a flower that was rarely performed because it was clearly a metaphor for this act, and Damen thought of it as he pleased Laurent. He liked feeling the tension in Laurent’s thighs, the way Laurent moved against the hand holding his cock. 

Damen pulled away for a moment and traced the reddened skin where his lips had been with his finger. He glanced up at Laurent. Laurent still had his hands placed in the place on the bed where Damen had left them. His eyes were closed. Damen admired his body for a moment, the arch of his back and the curve of his hip. 

“Come on,” Laurent said. “Fuck me.”

“Not yet.” Damen leaned in to tease Laurent again. He alternated between his mouth and his finger, trying to see how gentle he could be, feeling Laurent react from just the mildest touch of his breath. 

“Please,” Laurent said, bucking into his hand, and Damen finally took pity on him, rolled him over to his back, and took Laurent’s cock into his mouth. 

Laurent’s moved his hands from where he had been holding them above his head, and tried to touch Damen’s head. His hands were still tangled in his shirt and his jacket, and so he only managed to twist his hands further in the fabric as he put his wrists on Damen’s head. Damen narrowly avoided being hit in the eye by one of the buttons on collar.

He was pleased, though. Laurent was not often so abandoned, and Laurent made a soft noise as he finished into Damen’s mouth.

Damen sucked him gently through his orgasm, and then kissed his thigh and pulled his head out from under Laurent’s jacket. He climbed back up Laurent’s body and leaned in to kiss Laurent. Laurent blinked at him, seeming almost shy, and his kiss was tender.

Damen smiled at Laurent. Laurent smiled back. 

“Help me get this jacket off,” said Laurent. “You might need to use a knife.”

Damen made no move to assist, smiling and leaning in to kiss Laurent gently again. “I’m not sure that I’m quite done with you yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr!](http://josselinkohl.tumblr.com/post/149366297807/bondage-like-tying-laurents-hands-together-or), [check out the author's other Captive Prince fanfics](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=hits&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&fandom_id=3516977&user_id=Josselin)


End file.
